The Final Hour
by Collie
Summary: Cordelia deals with Doyle's death a bit harsher than Angel expected. A hell of a lot harsher.


  
  
TITLE: The Final Hour.   
AUTHOR: Collie.   
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. Especially for this story.   
SPOILERS: Post "Heros". Slight spoilers for "I Will Remember You".   
DISTRIBUTION: Through My Eyes. Anyone else, just let me know.   
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cordelia or Angel. They belong to Joss.   
FEEDBACK: I normally don't beg for it, but in this case, I'm going to. This is a rather disturbing subject for me to write about, so I'd really like some feedback on how you all think I handled it.   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Deals with issues of suicide. Lyrics from the song "It Can't Rain All the Time" by Jane Siberry, and "Song For Eric" by Tori Amos. 

>   
_ When I'm lonely  
I lie awake at night  
And I wish you were here  
I miss you  
  
Can you tell me  
Is there something more to believe in  
Or is this all there is  
_

Angel had never seen her like this. Hair hanging limply, lacking it's usual luster and curl, lank. No make-up on her pale face, her lips set in a thin, straight line. He watched her from where he sat, in the dark of his office. The calming dark. Feet propped up on his desk, book in his hands. She walked in through the front door, not even bothering to turn on the light. Her purse dangled a second from her shoulder, then dropped— sliding down her arm and landing with a soft thud on the hardwood floors. Angel slid his feet off the desk, closing the book softly. He placed his hands on his thighs, sniffing the air around him. Whiskey. He'd smelled it on Doyle enough to recognize it's scent in the air. He sighed softly, rising slowly from his chair.   
  
Cordelia, having lost her shoes somewhere between door and the couch, slumped down in the leather cushions, hands folded awkwardly in her lap, eyes downcast. Angel hung back, crossing his arms across his chest, leaning against the door jam.   
  
He cleared his throat softly, "Cordelia.."   
  
No answer.   
  
He hung his head for a moment. He knew conflict could not be avoided if he made an effort to talk to her, but this needed to end. It had been three days since Doyle's death — three days she had come back, reeking of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap sex. Needless to say, he was worried. Very worried.   
  
He pushed himself up from the door jam and walked slowly over to her, stopping within her eyesight. He ran a hand through his hair, kneeling down in front of her, reaching out to take her hand, which was like ice.   
  
"Cordelia, look— I know this is hard for you, but you have to understand — What Doyle did, he did for you. For us. He wouldn't like seeing you like this, knowing that this is how you were behaving when he sacrificed so much for you to live."   
  
His eyes trained on her face as he spoke, looking for any sign of.. anything. Suddenly, as quick as a lightening flash, she yanked her hand away, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. She turned cool eyes on him.   
  
"Oh, please, Angel. Like you even care. All you care about is yourself and your stupid brooding. You didn't care about Doyle, and you don't care about me."   
  
She stood abruptly, glaring down at him, watching him as he stood slowly, his expression pained.   
  
"Cordelia, you know that's not true. I-I can't believe you even think that—"   
  
Her derisive snort cut him off as she shrugged off her jacket.   
  
"Why wouldn't I? You don't care. You don't care about anyone. I mean, look what you did to Buffy?"   
  
She raised an eyebrow, pointedly, smirking as the pain crossed his features.   
  
"I mean, you turn all human, you *fuck* her, then you play all anti-hero and turn back the clocks so she never even knew it happened. I mean, how selfish is that? You want all the pleasure but none of the pain. I mean, she could be pregnant, for all you know. And have you even stopped to think that maybe.. maybe she does remember? Maybe she's hurting? Suffering? No— because it's always about you. Can't have anything messing up your Holy Crusade, now can we?"   
  
She shook her head in contempt, brushing past him on her way towards stock room she'd been sleeping in the past few days. His hand shot out, grabbing her as she passed.   
  
"Cordelia, that is *not* fair. You know I did what I had to do. You know there was no other option."   
  
She jerked her arm away, turning full glare on him.   
  
"No Angel, I *don't* know. That's just it. You're so caught up in your own little world, that you never even stop to think of the people you might be hurting— the people that are suffering because of you and your selfishness."   
  
His eyes hardened slightly and he crossed his arms across his chest, looking down at her. When he didn't answer, she continued.   
  
"Do you know.. do you know that sometimes.. sometimes I had to.."   
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, pausing as she gathered her wits.   
  
"On two different occasions, Angel — on *two* different occasions I took off my clothes for money at that seedy bar Doyle liked to frequent. I took off my clothes and let dirty, disgusting, filthy men touch me and stick money in my *panties* — money you didn't have the heart to ask for from people that owed you their lives. I sold myself because of you!"   
  
Angel clenched his fists at his sides, his mouth hard.   
  
"Cordelia, you can't blame me for this. You can't blame me because you're hurting. I'm hurting, too. I know—"   
  
His lament was cut off by a sharp slap landing across his left cheek.   
  
"You don't know shit", Cordelia's eyes were blazing.   
  
Angel slowly raised a hand touching his slightly stinging cheek, appalled that she had hit him. She filled in the space between them, her anger and self-righteousness making her seem almost as tall as him.   
  
"You just used him, Angel. You just fucking used him! Did you ever once thank him for everything he's done for you? For us? Did you ever once acknowledge the pain he went though for you? *He* is the real hero, not you. You're just the fucking muscle— the lackey. Without him, you would have had nothing. No purpose." Her voice wavered.   
  
She reached up, shoving him as hard as she could in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few feet.   
  
"You selfish son of a bitch! He was better than you. You're *nothing* compared to him!"   
  
That was all it took. Angel growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her up against the wall, holding her there. He leaned in close to her face, sneering as his demon wrenched control.   
  
"How dare you. How *dare* you talk to me like I'm some unfeeling creature?! I do feel, Cordelia. I *do* have a heart." He shook her, growling again, "You are *not* the only one suffering. God, you're small— I can't believe you. When I looked at you, I thought I saw a friend. I thought I saw a changed person. But you're the same Cordelia Chase— the same goddamned Ice Princess that I left behind in Sunnydale." He snarled softly, "And you call *me* selfish — if I wern't a better person, I swear, I'd kill you for speaking to me that way. You don't know me at all."   
  
Cordelia just stared up at him, her face still a mask of fury, rage, intense pain.. but her eyes softened, and behind them lie something deeper..   
  
She reached up, grabbing his hands and throwing them off of her shoulders, then grabbed her shirt collar, yanking it aside, barring her throat to him, "Do it", she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. She licked her lips, locked eye to eye; brown to gold.   
  
"Do it, Angel. Kill me."   
  
His eyes slid from her's to her exposed skin. His lips parted, a sharp inhalation passing through them. No. He had to move away. The demon was too near the edge..   
  
He clenched his eyes shut, reaching up and shoving her against the wall once more, all but stumbling back from her, turning away. He shook off his game face, his human features wracked with confusion, anger, hurt. Behind him, her heard a small noise — soft, but he knew what it was. He slowly turned, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she slid down the wall, curling herself up small, her body shaking with the sobs that wouldn't come. Not just yet. His body slumped visibly as shame crept over him. She was hurting so badly, and he'd given her what she'd wanted — a reason to escape. She wanted him to yell and scream. She'd wanted a reason to run from him. From this place. From the memories that caused her such grief.   
  
He swallowed hard, walking over to her. The space between them felt like the Grand Canyon — wide, empty, barren.. but still he tread.   
  
She didn't look as he slid down the wall beside her. She didn't react as he slid his arms around her tenuous form, slowly running his hand over her hair, whispering words that held no promises, only meaningless comfort.   
  
After minutes that mattered not had passed, Cordelia finally looked up. Her tear-streaked face nearly broke his heart. It was then that he realized, he too had been crying. She reached out, gently brushing at a tear on his cheek, her voice barely more than a whisper.   
  
"I.. didn't know you cried.."   
  
He smiled sadly, brushing away the tears she had missed with his free hand.   
  
"I don't. Usually."   
  
Cordelia nodded, rubbing the tear between her thumb and forefinger. She dropped her hands in her lap, her head ducking as she stared at them.   
  
"Angel? I-I didn't really mean any of those things I said to you. I.. I only wanted to get a reaction from you. To see if you.. if you really did feel things like.. like normal people do."   
  
Angel nodded, running his hand over her hair again.   
  
"I know, Cordelia. I know. But, you were right. I never did thank him. I never did show my appreciation. But please believe me when I tell you that I *was* grateful — I am grateful. For both of you. I left Sunnydale because I needed to be alone, but now I realize I never would have made it on my own. You both made it so much easier to live each day, and as much as I don't show it, I care about you both a tremendous amount."   
  
He slid a finger under her chin, tilting her face up.   
  
"Thank you. Thank you for caring about me. About him. I know that wherever he is now, he knows how much you cared."   
  
Cordelia nodded, reaching up and taking Angel's hand in her's   
  
"Angel..? I-I need you to help me."   
  
Angel nodded   
  
"Of course. Anything."   
  
"I need you to take me away."   
  
He frowned softly, furrowing his brow.   
  
"You mean.. From Los Angeles? Cordelia, as much as I would love to, you know I can't—"   
  
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears spilled over.   
  
"No, Angel — I need you to take me to him. I need to be with Doyle."   
  
She opened her eyes, slowly chancing a look into his. At first the confusion was still apparent, then a dawn of realization settled in them. He began shaking his head, squeezing her hand. Before he could eve open his mouth to voice a protest, she continued.   
  
"Angel, please. Let me say what I need to say."   
  
He clamped his lips shut, pausing for a few seconds before nodding. She sighed heavily,   
  
"Angel, Doyle was the only real love I've ever known. Doyle loved me for me. He didn't know who I used to be. He wasn't some mindless insipid guy who would follow me around because it would step him up a notch on the reputation ladder. He didn't want me for just my body. Even when I was mean to him, he cared. Even when I scorned him, he smiled. Even when I shunned him, he stayed."   
  
She was crying openly now, yet her voice stayed calm and steady. Her eyes were open wide, boring into Angel's in a way that scared him, almost more than anything else ever had. An eerie silence seemed to have claimed the room. Cordelia wrapped her other hand around Angel's, squeezing his hand with both of her's.   
  
"Angel, I need you to take me from this world so I can be where I belong — with the man that loves me. The man that needs me.. more than you do. I need to be with Doyle."   
  
Angel swallowed, sliding his eyes down to their entertwinded hands. He didn't even feel the pressure, but she was clutching his hand so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. He looked back up quickly, catching her eyes. They were wide, honest, determined. Somehow he knew, no matter how much he protested, Cordelia was to win this argument. But, his honor still wouldn't give up.   
  
"Cordelia.. I don't.. I don't know if this is a good idea. Maybe..maybe we should just get you bed. You'll be a bit more rational in the morning.."   
  
Cordelia gripped his hand tighter still, if that were possible, leaning her face close to his, their foreheads touching. He could feel the heat of her tears.   
  
"Oh, God, Angel.. I-I can't make it without him. I can't make it.. How am I supposed to go on with my life.. knowing what we had.. what we could have had.."   
  
He flinched slightly as he heard Buffy's own words coming from Cordelia's mouth. He choked back a sob.   
  
"Oh, God.. Cordy.. I—"   
  
She reached up with one hand, gently cupping his cheek. The gesture was so gentle, so pure..   
  
"Please, Angel — help me find him. Be the one to take me to him."   
  
Angel reached up with his free hand, grasping her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her palm gently and lifted his gaze to her eyes, nodding slowly. She nodded in return, smiling slowly, bravely.   
  
"Thank you, Angel. Thank you for being my friend — for loving me in my final hour."   
  
And she closed her eyes one last time.   
  
Angel kissed her hand one more time, then set it in her lap, along with her other hand. He gathered her in his arms, lifting her easily. She was like a rag-doll in his arms. He carried her over to the leather couch and laid her gently on it, brushing the hair away from her forehead, catching a tear with his thumb as it slid down her cheek. He lifted her slightly in his arms, moving the hair from the side of her neck, slipping into game face. He leaned down, brushing her soft skin with his lips, murmuring the last words she would ever hear.   
  
"I love you, Cordelia Chase. I hope you find what you're looking for."   
  
She gasped softly as his fangs penetrated her skin, her hands reaching up and gripping his arms, bracing herself.   
  
As he slowly swallowed her life away, a single teardrop slid down her collarbone, tracking a clear trail through the thin stream of blood trickling down.   
  
He never knew if it was her's.. or his own. 

> _ I see you in my dreams  
Fair boy, your eyes haunt me _

  
END.   
  



End file.
